


Worlds Collide

by songofafreeheart



Category: Brave (2012), How to Train Your Dragon (Movies), Rise of The Brave Tangled Dragons - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Thor AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-13 23:05:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7141862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songofafreeheart/pseuds/songofafreeheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prison break in the DunBroch dungeon sends Merida across the bridge between worlds to track down a criminal who threatens the peace of Interspace. The GUARDIAN agent Eret Eretson is the one who ends up helping her. A turn he never expected his life to take.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

 

_ Worlds Collide _

_ By Song Of A Free Heart _

Prologue

"What could have done this?"

Eret was wondering the same thing as he moved through the ruins of what had been a GUARDIAN compound. A temporary one, yes. But he had been in enough of them to know they weren't the kind of things that could be blown over by a gust of wind.

He had seen destruction before. And he had seen death. Both in his life before, and now in his work for the GUARDIANS. But this… this was a whole new level, like nothing he had ever seen.

A large swath of the compound had been torn apart. Not deconstructed. Torn to pieces. While the agents who had manned it, mostly scientists and paper pushers, had been tossed around like rag dolls.

Most of them hadn't survived.

Eret stepped carefully, between broken beams, scraps of sheet plastic, and scattered tools.

It had rained the morning before, so the thick clay had taken footprints like a dream. And that was what Eret found his eyes returning to repeatedly.

Behind him, the scientist he was accompanying, Jane Porter, gasped as her foot accidentally brushed against a fallen body.

"I can't believe one man did this," she said, raising a hand to her mouth in horror. "It's not possible."

"It's what the reports say," he said. The whole scene was relatively bloodless, he noticed, which unnerved him as much as anything else.

The survivors **–** the ones who had been assigned to the areas that had been left alone, or the ones with the sense to get to those sections **–** all claimed they had been attacked by one man. Though it was hard to tell if their descriptions of a seven foot man, with dark hair and tattoos over his bulging muscles, was accurate, or the result of their trauma.

Ever since Eret had heard the accounts, something nagged at the back of his mind. Something he was missing. Though when he tried to follow that feeling, all he came back to was memories of his mother singing him lullabies when he had been a child.

"It's not possible," Porter repeated.

Eret crouched down, the rich smell of damp clay filling his nose when he inhaled. Familiar, reassuring, and, in many ways, simple. He ran his fingers a fraction of an  inch above the ground. Specifically, over the footprints imprinted in the earth. With clay like this, they would probably last until the next strong rain. And no one had been through here before them, so the impressions were easy to read.

"No," he said, eyes searching the area around him for details to confirm the pieces he was putting together. Hard as it was to believe. "There was just one."

"How would you know that?" Porter asked, her tone unconvinced.

"Everyone here was a GUARDIAN, right?"

"Of course."

"All our boots are standard issue, with the same tread." He pointed to one of the footprints that bore the tread he now recognized without a second glance.

Porter lifted one foot, looking at the tread of her own boot, then back at the footprints around them. Eret could keep track of which ones were hers by the fact her feet were smaller than any of the others.

"There's only one tread that doesn't match," he said, pointing it out.

Not only was the tread unfamiliar, it was unlike any Eret had seen before. As near as he could tell, it was a practical pattern, with both deep and shallow grooves that would probably make the shoes ideal for any terrain. Even besides that, it was large and deep, while the length of the strides suggested that the agents hadn't been exaggerating the man's height.

Porter came over to examine the print he pointed out.

Eret lined his own foot up next to the print, putting all his weight down on that foot.

"Maybe it was a group wearing the same kind of shoes."

Stepping back, Eret crouched down again to compare the two prints. His own was slightly smaller. The difference in depth wasn't noticeable. But when he looked closely, he was sure his was shallower.

"No," he said, standing up straight. "They're all the same size, and there's only one set."

She looked at the prints again, following them with his eyes. Then back at him as she braced her hands on her hips. "And here I thought you were just the muscle sent to keep me safe."

That was exactly what he was. In an official capacity, at least.

"I used to hunt up north," he said, once more moving forward as he followed both the tracks, and the path of destruction.

"Oh." Apparently she didn't approve of hunting. "From your accent, I would have guessed you were from London."

From her own accent, Eret guessed she was probably from the same area.

"I was raised there," he said. "My mother's originally from Scandinavia." That was the simple version of the story, at least.

He frowned as the trail zigzagged.

The destruction of the compound hadn't been a result of the fight. It had been ruined on purpose, though he couldn't guess why. To make a point? If so, what point?

"How did you end up as a GUARDIAN?"

"I'm enlisted."

"Oh."

All GUARDIANS knew what "enlisted" meant. He had been caught doing something the organization didn't want the general public to know about. But they had decided he wasn't a threat, so they had offered him the chance to work off his debt to society in their employ.

It was the only way he ever would have joined up with an agency of any kind.

"What did you do?"

Eret glanced back, annoyed both with the distraction, and the blunt question.

"'Trapping an endangered species, with the intent to sell illegally'," he quoted from the charges. "Multiple counts."

He came to a stop at a place where debris covered the trail. He crouched down, lifting the sheet plastic warily, in case there was another body underneath.

"What species?" Porter asked.

Eret was only half paying attention to the conversation (or interrogation, as it were), more interested in his investigation. It was why they had been sent, and Jane didn't seem to be doing much on that front.

The feeling that he was missing something still continued to nag at the back of his mind. Not something obvious. Just something he should be able to see. Some connection he should have made.

"Dragons," he said, without thinking. "I worked for Drago Blüdvist."

"You were a dragon trapper??"

The righteous indignation in her voice made him wish he had ignored the question. Or had never let the conversation get to this subject at all. Especially since he was trying to find what he was missing. It was kind of hard to do when she was lecturing him.

She continued to go on, telling him all the reasons he was a terrible person.

The air crackled with electricity, causing the hairs on his arm to stand up. A shudder raced up his spine, and over his shoulder.

Above them, the clouds were gathering. Heavy, dark… and purple. Not the dark grey of storm clouds that occasionally looks purple, or even the purple of the clouds at night when it snows. But a deep, bright, almost jewel toned violet.

Again, Eret felt the air crackle. But there was no sign of lightning in the clouds.

"Be quiet," he said, not glancing back.

"You trapped those magnificent creatures, and sold them to a man like Drago Blüdvist, and you expect me to—"

"Shut up!" he snapped, putting the weight of authority behind his voice. Not something he had been able to use in a while. He was pleased to see that it still work, since Porter fell silent.

"This compound," he said. "Why was it here?" He knew the answer, but felt the need to double check.

"They were investigating unusual weather patterns."

"Like those?"

Eret pointed to the purple clouds, which had begun to swirl as though someone were stirring them up. All the while coming closer.

"I would imagine so," Porter said, her voice hushed and awed. "Yes."

The clouds were now directly over their heads. Eret's scalp tingled as the air continued to grow more charged.

Still no rain.

But small arcs of gold lightning began to appear through the clouds. If it could be called lightning. It looked more like sparks than anything else.

Now the clouds seemed to bear down on them, coming closer and closer to the ground.

"Oh, goodness," Jane whispered.

Just before a section of the clouds dropped towards them, as if something heavy had just been dropped through the clouds, and brought a purple twister swirling in its wake.

There was a burning smell. Familiar enough to recognize. Alien enough to be strange. It was more like dragon fire than burning wood, with metallic undertones, and some element he couldn't begin to guess at. Not bad. Just… unnamable.

The descending section of cloud seemed to explode when it hit the ground. Surrounding them in the smell, as well as in an amethyst colored cloud. Eret inhaled, and felt as though the burning smell filled his throat, coating the inside of his mouth, all the way down to his lungs. He coughed, to try and clear it.

When he looked up, through the fog, he could make out a figure through the haze.

"Oh," he breathed.

As that thing nagging at the back of his mind finally clicked into place. Only once it was so obvious it made him feel like an idiot.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**So, just to be clear: When I say this is a Thor AU, it's more that I took the _concept_ of the Thor movies, and some of the world building aspects, to create my own story. (That's usually how I do AUs.) This is not a retelling of the movie. **

**This is Rise of the Brave Tangled Dragons. I'm just focusing on Merida and Eret, since that's where the story is. (For now?)**

**Now all that's out of the way, let's get on with the show!**

_Chapter 1_

_Second Golden Age of the Interplanetary Empire_

_The Kingdom of DunBroch_

_746th Year of the Bear King's Rule_

Among the kingdoms of the Interplanetary Empire, DunBroch stood out as one of the oldest, and one of the proudest. Fierce defenders of the crown, as well as the peace, they had stood by House Lunanoff when they ruled. And they had been one of the last defenses to fall under the nightmare's onslaught. No one could claim they had not done all they could to prevent the fall, and the eventual deaths of the royal family. 

They had come out of the wars with as many heroes as any kingdom (though Berk would always insist that they didn't have _more_ than any other). In the new peace that had formed, they had helped the kingdom of Corona to rebuild the empire, and now served as faithfully has they had served Lunanoff before. With the benefit that its own divided factions had set aside their differences, and united once more under the Bear King's single rule.

While their warriors continued to earn their fierce reputation as the Empire's defenders, the kingdom itself had thrived in the peace. More than happy to revel in the stories of victories beyond the borders, but glad that at the end of the day they could sleep securely without threat.

The breakout at the Vault, a few months earlier, had seeded a slight tension in the air. But every week brought a new report of another threat recaptured. The stories involving their fierce and wild princess would be told over and over with gusto, growing with each telling. In the beginning, they said she had been helped by her warriors - as they all knew she had been, in reality. But within a week, they said she took on the most frightening monsters in universe single handedly.

Until she returned from another battle, and the process would start over again.

There was very little fear. There was a threat. But the inhabitants of DunBroch, as with the majority of people in the other kingdoms, trusted that all would soon be set right.

They looked up at the castle fortress on the bluff above the city, trusting that the Bear King and his daughter would protect them.

#

"Bandits," Elinor said, shaking her head. "The last thing we need right now."

"They've been taken care of, Mum," Merida assured the queen, as they descended the stairs from the royal wing of the castle. "I left a squadron of guards, but I'm sure they'll do more rebuilding than fighting."

Their voices echoed off the stone walls of the large staircase, the ceiling of which was too high above them for Merida to begin to guess at. But it was an echo they barely registered, since it was present in nearly every conversation that happened within the castle walls.

Each step the queen took, the heavy green silk of her dress whispered with her movements, the skirt, and the long sleeves of her kirtle trailing on the steps behind her. She was every inch the queen, moving down the steps with an elegance that left many in awe. While beside her, her daughter's boots pounded against the stone airs, her footsteps heavy.

Unlike her mother, Merida looked more like a warrior than a princess. Her clothing, in deep shades of blue, embroidered with knot work, was visibly rich. As was her gold washed armor. But that same armor, while polished, was marked with wear. Her Claymore, strapped to her back, was not a decoration. Neither was the blow slung over her shoulders, or the quiver of arrows at her hip. As everyone in the palace, and many people beyond, well knew. With her fiery red curls, and blazing blue eyes, she was her father's daughter, through and through.

Elinor cast a sidelong glance at her daughter as they reached the second floor landing.

"Your victory was quick, Merida, but it wasn't easy."

"I know that," Merida said. And she did. She had been there, in the middle of the fight's intensity. She had visited the families of each of her fallen warriors to tell them of their loss.

No fight was easy. And no victory came without a price.

"But bandits on our border are nothing compared to Hades, or—" Two names jumped to her lips. Before she could even debate which example to use, she found she didn't want to use either of them.

"The escaped from the Vault have almost all been rounded up," Elinor said, knowing what her daughter meant. "We received reports that Astrid and the Dragon Riders recaptured Maleficent four days ago. Jack is hunting the Grimborn brothers."

None of them were enough of a threat for Merida to feel miffed at being left out of the hunt, even if she had been preoccupied.

"And construction on the Vault is ahead of schedule. Fredrick says this crisis will no doubt be behind us by the end of the year."

"Are we ignoring that Pitch Black is still missing?" Merida asked, looking over at her mother.

Elinor held her daughter's gaze, but didn't answer.

No one liked to admit how badly the security at the Vault had failed. Especially on what was supposed to be the most secure level.

Before either woman could say anything more – either a challenge, or something to lighten the mood – the air was split by the wail of an alarm.

Both women stopped in the middle of the final flight of stairs, listening for the pattern of the drum that beat underneath the siren.

"Break out," Merida breathed, horrified. Wishing she had translated the pounding wrong. But knowing she hadn't as the pattern started a third time.

She wanted to ask how it was possible. But knew that now wasn't the time.

"Get back upstairs," she ordered her mother, pointing back up towards the royal wing, falling into the role of commander without thinking. It was her natural footing in a situation like this.

She didn't miss the look of worry that flashed across the mother's gaze. Before she could assure her that extra guards would be sent to protect her, and the rest of the court, she felt Elinor's cool hand on her cheek.

"Be safe, my brave lass," Elinor said.

They both knew Elinor hadn't wanted a warrior daughter. She had wanted a princess, who would follow in her own steps. But she had come to accept that she couldn't change what Merida was, no matter how hard she tried. And, like any mother, she couldn't stop herself from worrying when Merida went into a fight.

Merida accepted the touch, which she recognized as the maternal blessing it was. And the words as a prayer.

Elinor's hand fell away. Gathering up the hem of her skirt, she turned, and ran back up the stairs.

For a moment, Merida lingered. Watching her go. Even as, below her, she heard the growing rumble of footsteps pounding the hallway on the ground floor. Every guard in the castle had been called to attention by the drums, and would now be racing to their assignments. Some to the royal wing, others to the gates. But most would go to the dungeon.

That was where Merida would go. Where her father was no doubt heading as well, from wherever he had been when the alarm sounded.

Pulling her bow from her back, Merida descended the last stairs, and started down the hall.

"Princess!"

Merida looked towards the call, but didn't stop. If the young lords couldn't keep up with her, they didn't deserve to be her lieutenants.

"The bandits—" Macintosh started.

"I know." Merida didn't let him finish.

It had been two days since they had returned from the skirmish in the borderlands, rounding up the bandits who had been attacking the fringe villages. Not an easy victory, as her mother had said. Those same bandits were now in the dungeon.

Still, they were nothing compared to some of the other prisoners. The bandits, and most of the criminals in the dungeons, were violent. Others were truly dangerous.

"We need to make sure none of them make it out," she said. If they could keep the fight contained to the dungeons, they could minimize the threat. 

They went to the back of the castle, past knotwork tapestries that depicted artwork and history, and ornately carved wooden doors. Down a stairway that took them underground.

Three sets of heavy doors barred the way to the dungeon. The first were red, accented with brass, carved with knot bears that bared their fangs. The two guards who stood outside them pulled the doors open as they saw her coming.

"Is my father down there?" she asked, not stopping.

"Yes, Your Highness."

She nodded, and they continued down the stairs.

As they neared the second set of doors, Merida caught the familiar sounds of battle. The screams, and the clash of steel. Fear dripped into her stomach. If they could hear it from where they were…

"They've already broken through the third doors," Macguffin said.

Which meant it was worse than Merida had guessed.

"Aye," she murmured, steeling herself.

The third set of doors, the closest to the prison itself, were the most secure. If they had broken through those, then the fight was the only thing between the prisoners and the castle beyond.

At the second gateway, guards pulled the heavy, green painted doors apart only enough for Merida and her three warriors to pass through. She didn't fail to see the fear in the younger guard's expression. No doubt he was wondering if he would make it through the day – and how his mother would react to the news of his death.

Dingwall and Macguffin stepped ahead, passing through before she did. She scowled at the move, but knew she had no choice but to accept it. As the princess, and heir, she had to minimize her risk at least somewhat.

But then, a few steps further down, there were more pressing things to worry about.

The sounds of battle were almost deafening. Merida felt them in her bones now. Her ribs vibrated with it. The hairs on her arms stood on end. Her blood coursed with the intensity of the air, which seemed to crackle with the energy of an oncoming storm.

She signaled to Macintosh, who was still behind her, to move forward.

"I'll guard the doors," she said, widening her stance on the top step. The fight was still halfway down the long flight of stairs, so from this position she had the advantage of higher ground. An advantage for any warrior: but especially for an archer. "Go."

"Are you sure?" Dingwall asked, his gaze coming into focus as he looked back at her.

"Go!" she repeated, putting an order into the single word.

All three nodded, and charged into the fray.

Drawing an arrow from the quiver at her hip, Merida nocked it in her bowstring.

A steady breath.

A moment to find a target.

Draw back the string. The familiar strain of the muscles in her back and shoulders sent a thrill through her. Situation aside, she was never more comfortable than with a bow in her hands.

Aim.

Steady.

Fire.

Her arrow hit its mark: A prisoner who had just been about to strike a killing blow on a guard. The guard, still alive, looked back at her in stunned relief.

Merida was already aiming at her next target.

She focused on the prisoners closest to her. Closest to the doors. As she sought them out, she searched for any sign of her father. The Bear King would no doubt be in the heart of the fighting. She just didn't know where that was.

From where she stood on the steps, all she could see was the hall that framed the stairs. The prison itself was obscured by the stone walls. And the third set of doors. Heavy, black…

And wide open.

The young lords were already pushing deeper into the fight. Cutting down prisoners.

Though not as fast as Merida picked them off. She shot down one of the bandits she recognized from the other day, before he could push past the guards at the edge of the fight. Had they stayed in their cells, they might have been allowed to live. Now, that wasn't an option.

"Princess!" a guard called.

She had already seen the man charging towards her. A mountain of a man, muscles bulging under his tattered clothing, malice burning in his eyes. The arrow she loosed hit him squarely in the shoulder.

He didn't seem to notice.

The same with the second arrow.

By then, he was too close for her to fire a third.

He raised the sword that had no doubt been stolen from a guard, with a war cry she felt deep in her marrow.

Merida ducked out of the way as the sword fell towards her. In the same movement, she drew her claymore from her back, bringing it up to block a second attack.

The force of the blow shot painfully up her arms.

"You're out of your depth, Little Princess," the man sneered.

Merida's response was to bare her teeth as she growled and pushed back. She broke the lock of their swords, coming around with an attack of her own.

He blocked it, but she came back with another.

This time he parried the blow, deflecting her sword to his right. He used the momentary opening to step over two stairs. Coming up higher.

While she had picked off the prisoners, Merida had descended several stairs to get a better aim. Now she regretted that.

She swung her sword upwards in another attack, trying to keep him at bay.

When he blocked again, he pushed back. Angling his body to bear his weight down on his sword. It wasn't enough to make her step down. But it did leave an opening for him to take another step up.

He sneered again. "You should learn to accept—"

He broke off with a cry of pain.

Merida smirked grimly. She had drawn one of her arrows from her quiver, stabbing it into his leg. He had been too busy gloating to notice the move.

"Accept what?" she taunted.

Movement from the corner of her eye caught her attention.

Another prisoner had broken past the guards. Hand still gripping the arrow, Merida yanked it out. The man howled again.

Dropping her claymore, Merida grabbed her bow and nocked the arrow. Aimed. It hit the prisoner, who stumbled back down the stairs.

She swooped down to pick up her sword, which the large prisoner had been reaching for. Returning it to her back, she glared, then nocked another arrow.

"Stay down," she ordered, when the arrow penetrated his chest, and he groaned.

Looking back down the stairs, she allowed herself a moment to search for her companions.

Macintosh, with his tall, wiry build, was easy to spot. His sword, Stabblooder, moved in dramatic flourishes as he attacked. Too flashy for Merida's taste, but at least he got the job done.

Macguffin, roughly the size of a small mountain, was also visible. Taking on two opponents at once with ease.

She didn't see Dingwall. But he was the most valuable of the three, because he was the one willing to fight dirty. She heard a startled scream, and figured it was a safe guess Dingwall was involved. No doubt he was low to the ground, biting ankles or something. (A tavern brawl tactic, but one that worked.)

Inwardly, Merida shook her head. Then returned her attention to the fight.

From beyond her view, she heard a fierce yell that could only be her father.

He was alright, then. Good.

Even as she drew another arrow, she looked around, examining the hall – or at least what she could see of it. Searching for a way to gain the advantage.

She fired the arrow at a prisoner who had been mid-fight with a guard.

"Princess."

She looked over at a battered guard, who was just coming out of the fray.

"What is it?" she asked, eyes still on the battle. Searching.

"A message," he said. "From your father."

She lowered her bow, giving the man her undivided attention. "Aye?"

"His Majesty is at the far side of the fight," he said. "He says to bring all the men here together. If we push from bother sides, we can get them back inside the third doors, and surround them."

With a nod, she looked back to the fight. "Macintosh! Macguffin! Dingwall! To me. You!" She pointed the arrow in her hand to a guard who had looked over at the sound of her command. "I need all of you to group together. Push them back!"

There was a cry of agreement from the guards. Most of him began to fight with fresh vigor now that they had an order to follow.

The young lords pushed through to reach her.

"Is there a plan?" Macintosh asked.

"Push them back to my father," she said. "Get the third doors closed."

Behind her, even as she spoke, she heard the green doors start to swing open. When she looked back, she smiled at the rush of guards coming down the stairs. She nodded for their leader to push down the stairs. The young lords fell into the ranks, while Merida stayed at the back. Bow drawn and ready.

Her smile was humorless, but definitely there as she watched her father's plan work. Step by step, the prisoners were forced to give way.

She followed them down.

Finally, she could see the clean, off -white stone walls of the prison. Just in time to watch the prisoners start to realize they were surrounded, outnumbered, and defeated.

Slowly, they began to lower their weapons. First one, then another, then three others, a handful more… until the last weapon hit the ground.

The guards cheered at their victory. Lead by her father's deep, gravelly voice.

Merida didn't take part in the ruckus. But her eyes shone, and she felt the warm sense of satisfaction at their victory spread through her bloodstream.

As the prisoners were lead back to their cells, Merida descended the last few steps to the floor. Where she could finally see her father, sword still in his hands as he spoke with the captain of the guard. Macintosh and Macguffin's fathers were both at his side.

Fergus's serious expression broke into a smile when he saw her, and Merida couldn't resist returning the expression.

"There's my lass!" he boomed, as she drew closer. "I can always depend on you, Merida."

She glowed under the praise.

Still, she looked her father over as she reached his side. Searching for any sign of injury. When she felt sure he was unscathed, she allowed herself to breathe freely again.

Fergus towered over her, his hair the same wild red – though a little lighter with age. His armor was marked by countless battles. The Bear King of DunBroch was a sight to behold, a contrast and counterpart to his elegant queen. Though, to Merida, he would always be her father.

"Still, an interesting way to start the day," he said, smiling again. "Your mum will probably spend the rest of the day worrying.

Merida laughed. "Probably."

She looked around, at the cells that lined the hall. There were considerably fewer prisoners than there had been when she came down here two days earlier, to see the bandits they had captured locked away. Most of them were scattered on the floor as casualties.

"What happened?" she asked.

Fergus looked expectantly at the captain of the guard, wordlessly asking the same question.

The captain shook his head, his expression penitent, and ashamed. "We don't know. The seals were turned off, but we don't know who could have done it."

Merida watched as the chains of golden light reappeared in the doorway of a nearby cell. The air shimmered between the links, an all but invisible shield the prisoners couldn't hope to break.

"Who was on guard?" Fergus asked, obviously not happy with the answer.

Merida had been on the receiving end of her father's anger and disappointment enough times to feel sympathy for the man.

The captain shook his head. "All the guards on duty are dead."

"How did that happen?" Fergus demanded. The same question Merida had been about to ask.

The entire palace was under constant guard. And the dungeon was supposed to be the most secure part of it. All three heavy doors were locked, sealed, and guarded. It shouldn't have been possible for someone to get by if they weren't supposed to be there. Just as it shouldn't have been possible for the prisoners to get out of their cells.

"It's the same as the Vault," Macguffin said quietly.

"Did anyone escape?" Merida asked, fairly sure the answer would be no. No one had gotten past her on the stairs, but the question still had to be asked.

"We're still accounting for everyone," the captain told her. "It may be a few hours before we're sure." He cast a pointed glance at the casualties that littered the hallway, and the stairs.

"Oh, well that's brilliant," Fergus said.

The captain looked away from his king's gaze, eyes fixed on the floor.

Merida stepped away from them, walking further down the hall. Deeper into the prison. She looked into each cell as she passed, surveying the prisoners inside. Most were subdued, licking the wounds of their defeat. Others glared at her, resenting that they had come so close to freedom, only to be beaten.

One, a burly man with dark eyes, stood right at the seal door. Not close enough to be stung by the energy. But close. He growled as Merida passed. The look in his eyes, she had no doubt that if he could reach through the seal, his hands would go straight for her throat.

She glared back, unaffected.

The deeper she went into the dungeons, the higher the security on the cells. The more dangerous the criminals they contained. Until she reached a separate cell block. Most of these she knew, checking them off a mental list in her head as she made sure they were secure in their cells. Feeling a little more secure with each one that was right where they should be.

"Is the party over already? Such a pity. I had hoped it would last a little longer."

Merida's lips pressed into a thin line as she looked into the second-to-last cell.

The woman inside sat on the simple cot against the back wall. Her gold eyes flashed with cruel amusement, set in a feline face. Dark hair billowed around her face, constantly moving, unaffected by gravity.

One of the prisoners from the Vault – held in DunBroch only for as long as the rebuilding took. But not one that had needed to be recaptured.

Merida knew she should probably keep moving. Not get caught up with Eris. She knew… but still came to a stop. Stepping closer to the cell, she smirked at the woman.

"This is the second time a prison break left you in your cell," she said.

"I supposed they know I'm not a team player," Eris said, smiling. Not rising to the bait.

Merida hated how much that smile unnerved her. That was why she turned away, and started moving again. Turning the corner to the last cell. 

This one was sealed separately from the rest. To ensure it remained sealed, even if something happened to the system, or in case of a breakout. This prisoner wasn't a visitor from the Vault; only because DunBroch insisted on being responsible for their own failings.

The extra layers of security meant Merida checked it only to say that she had. For her own peace of mind. As she turned the corner, she fully expected the prisoner to still be inside. She braced herself for whatever snide remark, or dark threat, he would toss at her.

Her heart shuddered in her chest.

"He's not there," Eris called, her voice sickeningly sweet.

Merida stared into the empty cell.

All three layers of the seal were off. There was no sign of the guards who were supposed to be there at all times.

"No," she breathed.

"Oh, yes," Eris said.

Regaining control of her body, Merida ran back around the corner. Until she stood in front of Eris' cell again.

"What happened?"

"Well I'm sure I don't know," Eris said. She stood with her back to the door, looking back over her shoulder. A thick lock of hair swept in front of her, to reveal her taunting smile. "I'm a prisoner, not a guard."

Merida growled, surging forward to slam her fists against the energy seal. She barely registered the hot, sharp sting that shot up her arms from the contact.

Frustration filled her when Eris didn't react. Didn't even have the decency to appear startled.

"What happened?" she demanded again.

"What will you give me if I tell you?" Eris countered.

"You're not in a position to bargain!"

"Actually, I am," she said, coming over to the seal. She was a good eight inches taller than Merida. Which just made her expression that much more condescending as she looked down. "I have something you want. If you want it, you're supposed to give me something I want. That's exactly how a bargain works."

"You're wasting my time!"

"Now, Princess, why _would_ I do that?"

Merida resisted the urge to hit the seal again. But she didn't have the time to let herself be distracted by someone notorious for her riddles and games.

Turning from the cell, she ran back towards the entrance. She was relieved to see her father still there when she rounded the corner so fast she almost lost control of her movements.

"Mor'du is gone!" she said. Loud enough to be heard by everyone in the dungeon.

A hush fell over the guards. Who all turned to watch as she skidded to a stop in front of her father. She saw his eyes widen infinitesimally.

"Are you sure, lass?"

She nodded. "Eris, and the other high security prisoners, are all still here. But Mor'du is gone."  She wasn't sure if her own heavy breathing was because of her run, or because of the situation. Though she wouldn't admit it out loud, fear prickled at the back of her neck.

Mor'du had been imprisoned for almost a millennia. Centuries before she had been born. But she still knew the stories. The destruction he had left in his wake, and the years of war that had ravaged interspace.

"How could he have gotten past us?" the captain of the guard asked.

"Never mind that now," Fergus said, cutting through the air with a large hand. "Search the palace. Search the city. Find him!"

The authority in his voice was such that everyone in the prison paid attention. Even a few of the prisoners sat up straighter. Before they remembered their situation.

"Macintosh, Macguffin, Dingwall," she said, as the guards started to pour back up the stairs. Her father started to call orders for some of the guards to stay, and Merida gestured for the young lords to follow her.

Back up the stairs, through the third doors, which were once more closed, the second, the first. Into the fresher air of the palace proper. Though they didn't have time to savor it.

"Where are we going?" Macintosh asked.

"We need to get to the Bridge," she said darkly, eyes narrowing.

They left the palace through one of the side doors, cutting across the grassy courtyard, and the packed earth of the training yards, on their way to the stables.

The same courtyards where she had first started leading them. As children, she had demanded they fall in line behind her. Insisting that, since she was the princess, they were required to follow her orders, and assist her in whatever adventures she managed to find. She would lead them out that side door, in search of dragons or bandits to fight. Determined to conquer them, and make a name for herself.

Sometimes, life didn't feel all that different from their childhood games.

When they reached the stables, Merida waved off the stable hands who rushed to gather Angus's tack.

Instead, she jumped on top of a barrel of outs outside the stall, using it as a step up to the top of the dividing wall. Without hesitation, she swung from the wall, unto her horse's back. Angus shifted, agitated by her nervous energy. But there was no time to sooth him. Instead, she urged him out of the stall, and into a run as they crossed the training yards. Whether the young lords kept up or not, she couldn't wait.

Through the back gate, over the edge of the waters that bordered the city, was the Bridge. The portal that connected DunBroch to the rest of the worlds in the Empire, and all of Interspace. Both gateway and guard station – the only way in or out.

Angus galloped headlong towards it. Hooves pounding against the quartz-like path that surged with energy. Golden light blossomed across the stone every time his hooves hit.

She didn't bother to stop outside the doors. Instead, she rode through the high arched doorway.

As soon as she looked around, she knew she had been right.

And that she was too late.

Of the three guards there, two were dead. Their bodies laid out by one wall. Her fingers clenched as she looked to the third. He gripped his side. Injured, but admirably still trying to do his duty.

"He came through more than an hour ago," he told her, without having to be asked. "We tried to stop him. We tried—" he gasped for breath. Grimacing as he gripped his side tighter.

"Where did he go?" Merida asked.

The young lords tumbled in, looking around. But she didn't take her eyes off the guard.

"Earth," he said. "The mortal realm."

Merida hadn't bothered to guess which world Mor'du would escape to. She had been too focused on getting to the Bridge. It didn't really matter where he went. But the answer didn't surprise her.

"Send me through," she said, dismounting from Angus's back. "Macintosh, Dingwall, stay and watch the Bridge while Macguffin takes him to the healing rooms. Tell my father where I've gone, and send more guards."

"Y-your Highness," the guard said. Gasping in pain again. "Earth is off limits. By Imperial order."

"I'm pretty sure 'Mor'du' and 'Earth' in the same sentence translates to an exception."

Angus whinnied as Merida ascended up the platform of the Bridge. Macguffin rested a hand on the horse's nose to calm him.

"Princess, you can't—"

"What did you just call me?" Merida asked, cutting the guard off.

He swallowed, and his eyes shifted nervously away from her glare. "Princess."

"Then do as I say," she commanded. Hyper aware of every second that ticked by. Aware that Mor'du was getting further away, doing stars knew what in the mortal world. "If the emperor is upset, the blame will be mine." If he was, it would probably be one of those times when being friends with his daughter would come in handy.

"You should probably just do it," Macintosh recommended, when the guard hesitated again. "She's only going to get scarier."

The man nodded, and went to the controls of the Bridge.

Merida felt energy surge around her as the path between worlds came alive. The hairs on her arms stood on end.

There was a moment of stillness, when the universe seemed to freeze on its access.

Then a rush. Everything raced to make up for that lost heartbeat. Gold light engulfed her. She knew she had left the platform, but couldn't actually feel the difference. Only the pressure, as though she were pushing against a strong wind. Blood rushed in her ears, drowning out whatever sounds were in the tunnel of light she was currently hurtling through.

She knew she was reaching her destination when a purple mist began to mix with the light.

She landed in a crouch on damp clay. The smell of it filled her nose. Similar to the clay she was used to, but completely foreign at the same time.

As the purple haze started to clear, she stood up straight. Bow in one hand, while the other rested on the arrows in her quiver, ready to draw one if necessary.

 


End file.
